


what comes after freedom

by ciuucalata



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: A little bit of good ol miscommunication, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciuucalata/pseuds/ciuucalata
Summary: “I know you care more about that pastry than about me, angel,” Crowley laughs, going on with his story.“That’s not true, Crowley,” he says, interrupting Crowley mid-sentence. He has the pleasure of seeing Crowley freeze with his mouth still open and leaning a bit over with his hands stretched forward as if to catch something. He looks at Aziraphale with unblinking eyes. Without the sunglasses on, Aziraphale can see exactly how wide and surprised they are.“Come again?”“You must know I care very much about you, my dear.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 232





	what comes after freedom

**Author's Note:**

> I was already writing this piece when I saw [sweathands’s art](https://sweathands.tumblr.com/post/188263766807/i-dont-know-why-this-image-popped-in-my-head-can) on tumblr and it gave me the inspiration i needed to finish this wip  
> Also shout out to my friend kimmie for giving me the motivation to write this and finish it in two days

They’ve been drinking for a while now and Aziraphale stopped listening to whatever Crowley is talking about somewhere between the third and fourth bottle.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around when this became his daily life. No, that’s a stupid thing to wonder about. He knows when it started: just a couple of days after their trials and the  _ lovely _ evening at the Ritz, Crowley barged into the bookshop with a box of chocolates and a bottle of wine (the wine was decent, the chocolates were exquisite). Ever since then, it hasn’t been a day where he didn’t get to see Crowley and in which they didn’t get drunk together.

What he couldn’t understand was why this was happening.

Don’t get him wrong. He loves being around Crowley and he wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. He just thought that after all was done and dealt with, it would have been a while before he saw Crowley again. After all, there weren’t any more miracles or temptations to do that forced them to interact. He somewhat expected another century long nap from his friend.

“And you won’t believe what happens next, angel!” Crowley says excitedly, getting up from the couch he has been lounging on so that he can excitedly throw his hands around as he talks. “That blessed bird steals the pastry right out of my hand!”

“Oh no,” Aziraphale gasps because it sounds like the right kind of reply to give, but he is decidedly less excited. Crowley doesn’t seem to realize or care that the angel’s mind is not in the same room.

“I know you care more about that pastry than about me, angel,” Crowley laughs, going on with his story. 

However, this is when Aziraphale’s mind decides to pay attention to what Crowley has been talking about. He sits up straighter in his arm chair and puts his wine glass on the side table. He blinks a few times, trying to clean up the cobwebs that have been gathering behind his eyes. Oh, he is drunker than he thought he was and he knows he’d never say what he is about to say if he were sober. Right now, though, he can’t come up with a reason why this might be bad.

“That’s not true, Crowley,” he says, interrupting Crowley mid-sentence. He has the pleasure of seeing Crowley freeze with his mouth still open and leaning a bit over with his hands stretched forward as if to catch something. He looks at Aziraphale with unblinking eyes. Without the sunglasses on, Aziraphale can see exactly how wide and surprised they are.

“Come again?”

“You must know I care very much about you, my dear.”

Silence falls between them. Aziraphale wonders if he even opened his mouth, or if his inebriated brain imagined it all. But then Crowley makes a surprised sound, his whole face instantly becoming the same shade as his hair.

It goes on like this for a while: Crowley staring at Aziraphale, looking as if he forgot even to breathe; Aziraphale looking at Crowley, expecting something, anything. There’s a part of Aziraphale that is wondering if maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. He’s been so good at doing that for the past centuries when it came to his feelings for Crowley, but this whole “on their side” business loosened him up and made him feel maybe too free and too daring. 

The alcohol isn’t helping, that’s certain.

Aziraphale clears his throat. “Crowley?” When that doesn’t succeed in breaking Crowley out of his stupor, Aziraphale gets up from his armchair and takes a few tentative steps towards him. “Are you quite alright, dear?” He reaches out a hand to put on his shoulder, but just as he is about to touch it, Crowley jumps out of its grasp.

“Yesyesyesss. Perfect. Never been better,” he rambles on, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale. 

There is a frantic look in his eyes, made worse by the alcohol, no doubt. “Are you su-!”

“Wha- what… what did you mean when you said that you” -he moves his hand vaguely in the air, still avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes- “ that you ‘care very much about me’?”

Aziraphale is a little bit taken aback by his question, and it’s a long time before he manages to find some words. He frowns. “What do you mean?”

Finally-  _ finally _ , Crowley meets Aziraphale’s eyes and he sees the confusion mirrored in his eyes. “Me?! Angel, you’re the one that said… that. I didn’t imagine it.” A pause. “I think I didn’t, at least,” he says, slowing down at last.

Crowley closes his eyes and just breathes for a few seconds. Aziraphale is left in silence once again and he can’t help himself from using this opportunity to admire Crowley. Tonight, the alcohol and the freedom he’s felt in the past weeks are allowing him to do what he’s been craving to do for too long; to let himself feel  _ everything _ .

“I need to sober up,” Crowley finally says. He opens his eyes and looks at Aziraphale for the briefest of seconds before he turns his back to him.

Aziraphale opens his mouth, ready to say he will do the same. They’ve been here many times. One of them says something that he shouldn’t have said, the other sobers up and the first follows quickly. But that was before; that was when they still had to follow other people’s rules, when they had to obey. Now the only rules they have to follow are their’s and Aziraphale doesn’t want to sober up. He needs the courage it gives him to say what has been on the tip of his tongue for so long.

He just needs to get it out of his system. He knows he’ll still have Crowley by his side even if he didn’t feel the same way. Because Crowley is nice, he is kind. They’re of the same stock, but Crowley has alway been better, even when he shouldn’t.

Aziraphale sees they way Crowley’s shoulders shudder, meaning that soon he will turn and he will be sober and clear headed and Aziraphale will have to expose all of himself to that, hoping he won’t get judged and oh! He is starting to panic. This is not good. Maybe he should sober up. Just ignore it all. The way they’ve been doing so until now. Why did he think that letting his intoxicated mind make a decision would be a good idea?

However, before he can do anything, Crowley turns to face him once again. Aziraphale feels frozen on the spot. He’s not even breathing. Probably. He can’t think of anything else but Crowley’s calculating eyes searching his face.

“Okay, angel. You said- and now I am pretty sure I heard you right, that you ‘care very much about me’. But you care very much about a lot of stuff, Aziraphale. Please be more precise.”

Aziraphale swallows. He opens his mouth but nothing wants to come out. And he definitely stopped breathing because not even air is passing through his lips. Crowley is looking at him, but as the seconds tick, Aziraphale can see his patience slip away.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, but it comes out as a sigh of defeat. “Sober up.”

Aziraphale shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

‘No, I won’t sober up. I can’t.” He stops again, trying to gather his thoughts but apparently Crowley takes it as a rejection. He doesn’t even try to hide the hurt that crosses on his face.

Crowley laughs, short and humorless. “Yesss, you can. Do it.”

The tone of his voice takes Aziraphale by surprise. It doesn’t sound angry or frustrated. It just sounds… crushed.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. He had no idea what he was getting into when he opened his mouth, but this isn’t what he wanted. “Alright, dear. Anything for you.” 

Aziraphale wills the alcohol out of his system and it leaves behind a deep ache in his legs and a foul taste in his mouth. He grimaces.

“Thank you!” he hears Crowley say.

When their eyes meet once again, it all feels too real. He can hear Crowley’s heart beating hard in his chest, he can feel the anxiety floating in the room (his or Crowley’s, he doesn’t know) but what makes him take a step back is the hope that feels too big for this room, for the whole bookshop, for the whole city.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale tries again but he stops when Crowley falls back on the couch.

“Sorry. My legs,” he says as if it should be explanation enough and, strangely, it is. Aziraphale’s own leg feel like they’ll stop holding him up at any given moment.

Crowley is avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes once more but, strangely, it makes all of this so much easier. Who knew eye contact can be such a powerful thing? Crowley sighs and plants his elbows on his thighs before he hides his face in his hands.

“Maybe… maybe I should go.”

Aziraphale is shocked by how much the idea of Crowley leaving now horrifies him. He didn’t come this far only for them to take ten steps back and be right where they started. His legs move without his knowledge and he falls on his knees in front of Crowley.

“Don’t go, Crowley.” It comes out softer than he wanted to. He worries that maybe Crowley didn’t hear him, but then he raises his head, looking at Aziraphale with wide eyes.

“Angel? What…?”

Aziraphale’s hands reach out and cup Crowley’s face. Softly. He doesn’t want to force him, but he needs to let him know that this is happening now; that this time Aziraphale doesn’t want to hide away.

“When I said that I care very much about you, my dear,” he starts as his thumbs move against his cheekbones, “I meant to say that I love you.” Crowley’s breath catches. Aziraphale hears it and it makes him smile. He is so overwhelmed by so much affection that he is sure Crowley can feel it too. “I am in love with you, Crowley,” he specifies, in case it’s not enough for Crowley. Because, yes, he cares about and loves many things, but nothing can come close to his love for Crowley.

Not only does he see it, but Aziraphale can also feel the shock as it falls on Crowley’s face. Aziraphale gives him some time to process it.

“You what?” comes the soft reply that Aziraphale can’t help but smile at. For some reason he smells rain and his wings flutter as if they want to spread.

“I’m in love with you, darling.”

Crowley blinks a few times, then he groans and throws his head back, letting it hit the couch. 

Aziraphale, out of all the possible outcomes, did not see this one happening. He feels his face pull in a puzzled frown as his hands fall from Crowley’s face and land on his thighs. Crowley just goes on groaning longer and louder.

“This is not the time to be dramatic, Crowley.” Aziraphale slaps him on his thigh and gets up. However, just as he is about to turn towards his armchair, Crowley’s cold fingers wrap around his wrist.

“This is exactly the time to be dramatic, angel,” he says and there’s a smile in his voice. Aziraphale, though, is still pouting and almost doesn’t want to turn to face him, but when Crowley tugs, he sits willingly beside him. “How would you feel if for the past month or so you’ve been planning this spectacular confession, you had all the right words, the perfect timing, but the only thing that was missing was the courage? Wouldn’t you also feel frustrated if I had just confessed out of the blue, as if it was the easiest thing?”

Aziraphale feels as if a weight has been lifted off his chest and he feels so light. His wings flutter excited again and his fingers clutch into fists beside him, involuntarily.

“You were planning on confessing?” He hears how breathy his own voice is and, probably, if he were in any other situation, he would have been embarrassed by it. Not now, though. Not when Crowley is looking at him the way he’s been looking for the past millennia and he can finally allow himself to bask in it.

Oh, he isn’t blind. He knows Crowley loves him too, but he’s been too afraid to accept that. The last thing he wanted was for Crowley to get hurt because of him. However, there’s nothing or anyone that could take him away from Aziraphale. They are  _ free _ .

“We don’t have to hide anymore, Aziraphale. I can love you. You can love me.” Crowley’s other hand moves to cup Aziraphale’s cheek. He wonders briefly if it is possible to discorporate from this much happiness. He hopes not, because he really doesn’t want to see Gabriel’s face after such a perfect moment. “But I wanted to be the first to confess,” Crowley whines and Aziraphale, despite still being a little annoyed by it, can’t help but smile fondly back. “Why did you have to take away my moment of glory. It was going to be so good. I had a whole speech planned, angel.” He leans forward, hiding his face rather forcefully on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “If I would have waited for you to do it, dear, another six thousand years would have passed.”

“Har-har.”

Aziraphale laughs and moves his head so he can kiss Crowley’s ear. “You can still have your moment of glory.”

A short pause passes before Crowley shakes his head. “Nah, I think this is pretty perfect.”

“Hmm. Yes. It is pretty perfect, indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it :D 
> 
> you can also find me on tumblr [@ciuucalata](https://ciuucalata.tumblr.com/)


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